Metaphor Castle
by Zandyne
Summary: Once upon a time there was a very sad as well as angry owner of an apartment, his name was Marluxia. There was also the matter of those who lived and died in his castle in the middle of nowhere. -M for language mainly-


A/N: It's a weird AU I guess. None of this they're in 'high school' stuff. I wanted to take my own spin on an AU and this is the result. I'd like to say this was something different, but I'm not sure. So I won't claim such egotistical things. Any thoughts are welcome. Feedback and critiques are encouraged. Enjoy.

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**Chapter One: Nowhere**

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The location of this particular establishment was not of great importance. Quite literally there were two roads, one going horizontally the other vertically in perfect ninety degree measurements. And if it wasn't for the fact that grass grew so abundantly around the clean cut dirt roads, then the land would just have been a barren slate of soil.

To further emphasize this point, if one was ever inclined to see such a picture of the enthralling property or if they could not properly picture such desolation, they need only open a dictionary and look up 'nowhere', a fine image of it would be located next to the definition.

Now in the general vicinity of what could be called the middle of such a nowhere was an obscure apartment of sorts. The building was relatively well-kept and could even look 'new', but that was only because no one with any sense would live in such a picturesque nowhere. Except one man who was now picking up the folded newspaper that miraculously was always delivered onto his apartment's doorstep.

The man was in his late-twenties, but his appearance suggested that he was stuck in his early-twenties. He was of slight build and he wore simple garments. An earthly t-shirt with a random logo and a simple pair of pants that lamely only had four pockets. His hair was unkempt and was mostly brown, but with the current lighting, one could swear it was almost a shade of pink. However one would never say such a thing to his face, as he had a tendency to be skillfully violent with a variety of pointy things.

His name was Marluxia and he was the landlord of Oblivion Apartment, the lone establishment located in the prime real-estate of the middle of nowhere.

Marluxia sighed as he forcefully opened the sheets of paper. Rather than read the textual gossip typical of newspapers he looked for possible restaurants he could order from. Chinese food became sickening after a month of consuming _only _that for sustenance. And any business that made pizza could spontaneously explode as far as he knew. He briefly scanned the appropriate food advertisement page. His eye caught a stereotypical cartoon chef brandishing a fork. A nice Italian place, new too. Spaghetti sounded wonderful. It was going to be expensive, but anything other than fried rice or pepperoni was exceptionally welcome.

Marluxia wandered back into the apartment, where the interior was a bleak white despite the exterior's strange color choice. He walked past the empty bell desk and mailboxes without taking his eyes off the paper in his hands.

He didn't have to look where he was going. The apartment luckily had no tenants except for the odd group of Moogles that had taken up residence in room III. Just as long as they minded their own business and paid their rent, they could continue being their strange, stuffed 'kupo-ing' selves for all he cared. Even if technically they _were _pets and he should have despised them. But hey, they overpaid on their rent, maybe something in their culture said bribery was acceptable. All Marluxia knew was that the financial situation was kuporiffic- he mentally coughed, _wonderful_.

He stopped in front of the excessive elevator that the apartment was so graciously endowed with. He always considered it was excessive given that there were only three floors, maybe a fourth if you counted the roof, a fifth if the meager ground floor could even be considered a floor. He absent-mindedly pressed the blue and diamond-shaped 'up' button.

After hearing the usual bell sound, he walked in. As he turned, he heard a familiar plush-popping sound the Moogle tenants made when they walked. He grunted an acknowledgment to the small creature and it kupo'd what was probably a 'good morning'. Marluxia pressed his own floor button and quickly pressed the Moogle's floor as well. It was a neutral gesture, nothing more. The midget thing would have had a hard time reaching the button anyway.

The elevator dinged a second time and he headed down the empty and mute white hallway. He pushed open the previously ajar room door that read XI and pulled back the chain lock that had propped it open. The room itself had nothing more than what was 'already' there: a couch complete with a cheap coffee table in front of it, a nightstand with a lamp and phone cradle, an empty mini-fridge in the corner and the holy television in front of the beforementioned couch. There was a single window in the entirety of the room and there were two additional doors, one leading to a space that was the closest thing to a kitchen and the other to a respectable bathroom.

The door slammed behind him, Marluxia plopped onto his couch and reached over to the cordless phone that laid on the small stand. The page of the newspaper ad held firmly in his hand as he dialed the shop's number.

A phone call later he flipped on the TV. Much to his dismay the only channels were buzzing static and blurry static. Apparently the signal had chosen to be relatively absent again. Having nothing better to do, he strolled to his closed window and pulled it open. A gust of crisp air poured into his normally dim living quarters. The sight of endless grass meeting with a blindingly blue sky was predictably there. Marluxia leaned against the window frame and momentarily took in the daily view. He didn't enjoy the scenery. He was just taking a deep breath of air.

Having admired enough of the 'splendor' of the obnoxiously clear day, he turned his focus to the recent growth of plant life on his windowsill. He stared at the strange white and yellow-tinted plant. One of the younger Moogle tenants had given it to him along with the fourth, imaginary over-payment of the month. Marluxia would have normally thrown the thing away, but something about the squinty closed eyes of the Moogle had moved him to keep it. It wasn't that he liked flowers like some flaming queer or something.

Okay, so maybe he did like flowers, so sue him that he was really bored and had a not typically manly interest. But still, none of that fruitcake business. Besides, that type of flower looked like it was _alive_, that and it had teeth. That in on itself was redeeming enough. It also had a tendency to take on a certain expression but still remain elegant in its own way. Today the way its 'teeth' were curled reminded him of a growling dog's.

Subconsciously he took up one of the leaves and pressed it curiously between his fingers. He wondered why the petals looked so spongy. It wasn't fake, that was for sure. One of the leaves looked like it was decaying. Marluxia plucked off the browning leaf, that's what he was supposed to do right? He may have liked flowers, but he knew next to nothing about caring for them. It'd been alive for three days now. He figured he'd been doing all right so far.

Marluxia didn't know how long he had been standing there, daydreaming like an idiot over the flower. But the background noise of the television's quiet static was now replaced with a familiar reporter's nasal voice. "And for those of you living on the edge of the town you may be experiencing flashes of rain, but don't let it worry you folks. Winds indicate that the clouds will be moving over to the wastelands closer to the plains-"

As if a cue had been given, the sky darkened considerably and the clouds crackled evilly with the promise of bad weather. Marluxia stared at the sky as he picked up the flower's white plastic box and cautiously brought it inside. Just as he locked the windows, the remaining outside light became another five shades darker and the sky rumbled savagely. The water that began pelting against the glass reminded him of a river.

The scowling flower was set down onto his false-oak coffee table. He sat in front of it and felt the petals once more. Now that he thought about it, they seemed to have been getting thinner. They also felt like leathery paper. Heavy drops thumped against the glass as he stared at the dismal petal between his fingers.

Water. He hadn't been watering the damn thing. Scoffing at his own negligence and audacity of the necessities of living things, he began scavenging the area around his couch for a suitable 'watering can'.

His search had earned him a crunched up soda can, five coins, a sock, a most likely ancient bag of candy and a half empty bottle. Uncapping the bottle he dumped the remaining water into the flower's box. That triviality out of the way, he turned his attention back to his unreliable TV. It was now noticeably dead again now that the weather man's curse had been cast over his miserable residence.

Feeling the slight nag of hunger, Marluxia tore open the plastic bag and chomped down on a piece of what was supposed to have been candy. Realizing that he had to move his jaw bizarrely around the piece to taste any of it, he opted to discard the rest of it into the trashcan along with the empty soda can. He nearly threw away the plastic water bottle but realized that the stupid flower would probably need more water later.

He briefly stepped into his simple bathroom and searched the drawers of his sink counter. Having found the desired scissors, he promptly cut the top off and it joined the pit of trash. The scissors returned to their appropriate place and he proudly set the jagged cup next to the faucet in the bathroom. Problem solved.

His eyes trailed from the newly set improvisation of a watering can to his toothbrush and the deflated tube of toothpaste next to it. He audibly sighed as he realized his plans for visiting the town were now royally screwed due to the weather. He ran a hand over his face as he tried to seek possible solace in the fact it was only his toothpaste and not something more. Then he realized the sad state of the entire bathroom and how he was supposed to have gone to town for other supplies as well.

As much as he hated cleaning things, bathroom tiles would not clean themselves and not without copious amounts of bleach. Marluxia's eyes stared ahead into the mirror in front of him. Another realization was that he needed to take a shower. Even if he wasn't going to town he still had a sense of personal hygiene to maintain. Appeased with the idea of an activity that would kill his idle time, he turned on the shower.

He cast a glance around the small bathroom as he looked for a suitable place to set his stripped clothing. The only suitable sanitary place was near the toilet. Marluxia closed the usually up lid and set the soon to be washed garments on top of it. He tried to content himself with the fact that he at least still had toilet paper.

On the outer reaches of the span of grass, a shivering figure was making its way towards the light it saw in the distance. Clinging to what futile cover it had for itself as well as its package, it pressed onwards through the sheets of bone-chilling rain.

Steam wafted out from the bathroom as Marluxia seated himself on his trusty couch. He was fully clothed and using a smaller towel to dry off his still soaked hair. He needed to add soap and shampoo onto that list of what he needed to get from the town. The towel lay limply on his head as he mulled over his thoughts about procrastination and karma. If worse came to worse, he could try getting things from the Moogle tenants.

The sound of the service bell being rung interrupted his lazy thoughts. It was probably the peon the Italian place had sent out with his food. His stomach let out an angry growl to emphasize the urgency to answer the bell. Marluxia grabbed a suitable amount of money before darting down the hall and to the elevator.

The brunette was doing his best not to frown at the sight in front of him. "Hey, unless you got my food, stop dripping on the damn floor and get the fuck out." The colorful word was a slip of the tongue on his part, it was unnecessary but justified.

The thing that was standing before him was most likely a human at one point before the ungodly rain had started. It more or less resembled a collection of trash bags haphazardly thrown together to create a deformed raincoat. Whatever it was, it was doing a marvelous job of soaking the ground in front of the bell desk.

Marluxia's brow skeptically rose at the shivering form that seemed to be ignoring him. He bent down to be get a better view of its obscured face. He couldn't see anything under all of the soaked coverings and the way it continued to turn away from him each time he got too close. He nudged it irritably, "Hey, you listening to me?" The form whimpered quietly and placed its soggy package onto the desk with a sickening squelching sound. Marluxia flinched away as muddy clumps of grass and water sloshed from its jolty movements.

Despite how calm he looked as he reached over, he was filled with seething rage. Explanations at this time were pointless and hopeless. This 'guest' was going to get forcefully reacquainted with the harsh outside with all the crap it was currently pulling.

Wide blue eyes looked up from under the hood and Marluxia's hands were stopped from clamping around its slick plastic shoulders. Pale chattering lips from under the hood formed silent words. All he could do was gape into those sad eyes.

The sickly figure slouched before crashing painfully onto the floor. More dark water sprayed out from under it's downed form and across the bleak and currently not-so-white floor. Marluxia regained his earlier indignation and cursed at the tiny flood of filthy liquid. He kneeled down to the unconscious form. With a quick motion he ripped off the hood. So what did this bastard look like?

His eyes widened. Under the shawl of twisted coverings and mud was a frail little girl. The sound of a near silent 'kupo' told him one of the Moogles had doubtlessly watched the whole scene. "GET BACK TO YOUR ROOM!" He snarled at the poor tenant and it scurried fearfully away at his outburst. There was a strange feeling welling up inside of him, and he wasn't handling it well.

Marluxia didn't even understand why he was doing anything anymore. His body just acted on its own. Why was he carrying her fragile body up the previously unused stairwell? Why was he walking past all of the other floors and to the topmost one? Why was he clumsily trying to open up the door to his own room? Why had he removed the strange raincoat? Why did he have to see how starved and helpless she was? Why was he drying her off? Why was he letting someone like her sleep on his couch, especially since it was the closest thing he had to a bed?

Too many questions were buzzing in his head as he laid down her's onto the towel-covered couch's cushions. Everything felt so normal regardless of the circumstances. A voice prattling on about contradiction and scorning such weakness was ringing in his head. But for once, he didn't care.

Maybe that was the benefit of being in the middle of nowhere.

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Post A/N: Had to rate it M for a little slip of the language. Anyway, this is an experimental fic I suppose. This was a test to see if I can write a story out with more description, but it doesn't seem too different from the norm. This 'story' is one you'll have to figure out for yourselves. This came out with the typical cynically bizarre humor as well as the usual momentary 'seriousness'. Oh, and yes, my mind is obscure when it comes to symbolism and plot. I tried to beta it more than usual, hope nothing seems too off. See you next chapter.


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